Thanks for the Memories
by sweetburgundy
Summary: The story of the complicated relationship between the butler and the housekeeper told through dreams and memories.


**Characters aren't mine, although I wish they were! This all came to me very suddenly and I struggled to get it all down on paper before my imagination ran away. Hope it makes sense, ****although I don't really feel I've done it justice. Please review, it makes me happy :) (Also, I'm aware that Isobel is probably a bit OC here, but I liked the idea too much)**

She had been fading away far too quickly over recent weeks. No longer able to sit up in bed, she lay there drifting in and out of consciousness, sometimes talking, sometimes not. He sat by her side whenever he could, often holding her hand into the small hours of the morning; something he wished he'd done long before now when she was well enough to understand the gesture. Now, she lay pale and drawn, her breathing shallow and her forehead damp from the fever that had taken hold of her in the night.

When she was conscious, it was anyone's guess as to how aware she was of her surroundings and the people who had come to visit. She sometimes replied, sometimes smiled and had giggled weakly once or twice but for the most part, she just listened. When she drifted off to sleep, however, everything came back to her and she lived in a world of memories and bittersweet dreams. The real world no longer mattered, just the world of what could have been and what was too painful to remember in the daylight.

_ There had always been something between them. Everyone remarked upon it - visitors to the house, the servants and even Lord and Lady Grantham joked about it from time to time._ _The only people who didn't seem to realise it, at least not immediately, were the butler and the housekeeper themselves._

_ Carson was always so set in his ways and Mrs Hughes never wanted to be the one to get in the way of his desire to do things properly. Not that there would ever be a way to do things properly in their case. Instead, it was shy glances in the hallway, stifled gasps when their hands accidently brushed and excuses to talk to each other alone in his pantry or her sitting room. It wasn't perfect, she thought, but it was enough._

_ It was late spring when everything changed between them. The days were long and unusually warm, the nights stifling and lonely. She wondered if that was what had brought him down to her sitting room late one evening after everyone had gone to bed. She had been wide-awake, finishing some last minute sewing when he knocked gently at her door._

_ "I wondered if you cared to join me for a glass of wine, Mrs Hughes? I couldn't sleep and I noticed you were still awake."_

_ She didn't know what to say, secretly overjoyed he had sought out her company, but anxious because it didn't seem appropriate somehow. She couldn't deny her feelings for him and that made it all seem wrong and improper – even if there was nothing more in the world that she wanted._

_ "Come in, Mr Carson," she smiled, stepping aside to let him into her sitting room. It was his first social call but by no means his last and so began a great tradition. The butler and the housekeeper would pass many an evening in his pantry or her sitting room with tea or wine, conversation flowing easily and grateful for the small amount of freedom they had to share each other's company this way._

* * *

"Oh, Mrs Hughes, you can't imagine how we're falling apart without you."

It was Anna who sat by her bedside, trying hard to hide her distress at the sight of the fading housekeeper. She would keep it together for now, but no doubt when she went back downstairs she would be inconsolable. Dr Clarkson had said she had a day or two at the most and Anna did not want to think that this could be goodbye.

"Mr Carson is missing you terribly. He's walking around as though he's lost a limb."

At the mention of his name, Mrs Hughes' eyes flickered towards Anna for the first time. They were dim and distant but Anna could see the unmistakable concern in her face and was immediately sorry that she had worried her. It made her smile faintly though at the fact that it was the mention of the butler that had stirred a reaction.

"I have a confession, Mrs Hughes," Anna began, a small smile playing on her lips. "I saw you one night. I mean you and Mr Carson. I've kept it secret ever since, not told a living soul and I won't until the day I die. But I thought you should know, and I thought you should know too that I admire you so much for hiding it all these years. You deserved to have one moment of happiness."

Anna was dismayed to see a tear roll silently down the housekeeper's face, wondering whether she should have kept quiet. Her anxieties were soothed a moment later when Mrs Hughes reached out weakly, her bony hand taking hold of Anna's in her limp grip. Her fingers were too thin, not the strong hands of a housekeeper but Anna held them in her own until Mrs Hughes had drifted off to sleep again, her breathing becoming slightly laboured.

_ "Goodnight, Mrs Hughes," he said as they reached the point in the hallway where they had to go their separate ways. He hated this part the most, watching her walk away from him while all his feelings remained bottled up, waiting for the day when he just couldn't take it anymore._

_ "You can call me Elsie, Mr Carson," she said almost shyly, looking up at him from beneath her long, dark eyelashes. It seemed so stiff and formal to still address each other in such a way when had just shared a bottle of wine together alone in his pantry._

_ "Elsie," he repeated slowly, trying the name out for the first time and loving the way it rolled off his tongue, a deep rumble in his chest. It tasted delicious, like the best pie Mrs Patmore could ever make. "Well, you must call me Charles then."_

_ She smiled at him, her eyes lighting up in the dim glow of the candle she carried. He loved how beautiful she looked at this time of night when her hair had started to fall loose and her eyes were becoming hazy with sleep. Before he could stop himself, he reached out, gently stroking her hair with a trembling hand._

_ He knew he should stop, that this should not happen, but once he saw her reaction he knew he had lost all control. Her eyes were closed as she leaned in slightly towards the pressure of his hand, a small smile on her lips as she revelled in his touch. She moaned slightly as he ran his thumb down her cheek, her porcelain skin as soft as he had ever imagined, and brushed it across her rough, pink lips._

_ "Oh, Charles," she gasped, her own hands wandering to his chest and creeping slowly upwards to pull him towards her. Their lips touched, the kiss achingly gentle._

_ She was the first to pull away, cheeks flushed and breathing heavily. The look in the butler's eyes was one she had never seen before; they burned with a strange fire of desire and longing and with a flutter in her stomach, she realised the depth of his feelings. Once more, she found her lips pressed to his, more urgently this time as her hands continued their exploration of his body._

_ "Elsie," he groaned, lost in a whirl of intense pleasure and disbelief. Their bodies were pressed tightly together and she could feel his reaction to her against her hip as his gentle hands searched out any bare skin they could find. _

_ A sudden noise from the end of the corridor caused them to jump apart hastily, readjusting clothing and smoothing down ruffled hair. It was Anna, her eyes still cloudy with sleep and carrying a candle in front of her._

_ "I'm sorry, Mr Carson. Sorry Mrs Hughes," she stammered when she saw them. "I heard a noise and thought it might have been Thomas up to no good again."_

_ "It's quite alright, Anna," Mrs Hughes managed with a smile. "We were just off to bed ourselves. Thank you for keeping an eye out."_

_ "Goodnight, Mr Carson. Night, Mrs Hughes."_

_ Anna hurried away, leaving the butler and the housekeeper to wonder exactly how much the young maid had seen._

"I know better than anyone you haven't always been the perfect pair that everyone makes you out to be," said Isobel Crawley, idly running a hairbrush through Elsie's thick dark hair. Ever the nurse, she was unable to simply sit and chat but had washed Elsie's face with a cool damp cloth and was now tending to her long curls.

"Although, if I may say so, Elsie, I always thought he would propose," she said with a grin. She was the only person who ever called Elsie by her first name, particularly in later years when the two had become rather close. She saw no need for such formality when Elsie did not serve her and those rules were out-dated anyway. Needless to say, the Dowager Countess did not agree with this point, but who was there to stop her now? This woman needed all the comfort and familiarity possible in her last days.

Isobel hid her shock at the sight of the poor housekeeper remarkably well. Dr Clarkson had warned her that she was different, almost unrecognisable, but she hadn't realised how difficult it would be to see her like that.

"I assume Mr Carson has been visiting a lot?" Isobel was finding it increasingly difficult to keep up the small talk without straying into dangerous territory. She knew better than anyone the problems that Elsie and Mr Carson had had in the past and in some ways she blamed him for how it had all turned out. It could have all be so different and while things were fine now between them, she knew that wasn't enough for Elsie. Isobel felt she deserved more, deserved better but now was not the time or the place for such opinions.

"He talks about you all the time. It's true," she added with a smile as Elsie turned slightly to look at her. Her hand paused in the housekeeper's hair, suddenly overcome with emotion. "You should sleep now, my dear. I will come and see you again soon but if… you know… well, I'm glad we managed to be friends, Elsie. I truly mean that and I know we'll meet again."

Isobel knew the chances of seeing Elsie again in this life were small and as the housekeeper began to drift off to sleep, she prayed. She wasn't a woman of strong faith at all, so it felt a little odd but she hoped someone up there was listening. They would meet again, she was sure of it, just maybe not on this Earth and as the tears slid down her face, she watched Elsie find some peace in her dreams.

_Isobel had always been very kind to her. It was probably their mutual dislike of the Dowager Countess, but Elsie had always felt drawn to her. She was kind and sweet but she had a certain fierceness that Elsie sometimes recognised in herself when she was taking charge of the maids and sometimes Mr Carson._

_When Isobel had invited her in for tea one afternoon however, she was a little apprehensive. Elsie was a simple housekeeper and Isobel was the mother of the heir to Downton. She was effortlessly elegant with her subtle make-up and expensive perfume, making Elsie feel inferior by comparison._

_"Mrs Hughes!" she called across the garden, where she had been examining something with Mr Molesley. Elsie had been on her way back from town, trying to clear her head with a brisk walk._

_"Afternoon, Mrs Crawley," she replied, crossing the road towards Crawley House. "Your garden is looking wonderful, if I may say."_

_"Thank you," Isobel replied with a flash of that smile that lit up her eyes although her expression changed quickly into one of concern when she got a clear view of Elsie's face. "You look terribly sad, my dear. What's wrong?"_

_"Nothing to trouble you with, Mrs Crawley. I'm just being silly."_

_"Come in and talk to me about it. Mr Molseley can make us some tea. I'm a good listener you know." Isobel took her by the arm, guiding her into the house and if she was honest, Elsie was curious as to what it would be like to have tea with Mrs Crawley. She tried to feebly protest but to no avail and found herself perched on a comfortable sofa in the living room of Crawley House, pouring her heart out._

_"Tell me one thing, Mrs Hughes and promise me you will tell the truth?" Isobel observed her over the top of her teacup and took her silence as agreement. "Do you love, Mr Carson?"_

_Elsie choked on her tea. She had not been expecting Mrs Crawley to be so comfortable talking about matters that were so personal but Elsie was the one squirming uncomfortably. Isobel sat with an air of calmness, a vague smile of amusement on her face, waiting for the housekeeper to regain her composure._

_"Oh, Mrs Hughes. We're in the twentieth century! Surely we can talk about love!"_

_"I suppose so, Mrs Crawley," replied Elsie, hoping she was blushing less violently now. "But to answer your question, it's not as simple as all that. You do realise that even if I did love him, nothing could ever happen?"_

_"I'll take that as a yes then!" exclaimed Isobel, slightly resembling a schoolgirl in her glee. Elsie had to smile; she got the impression Isobel had not enjoyed such a good conversation in a long time and she didn't begrudge her it. It must be terribly lonely when no one at the big house was particularly fond of her and Matthew was away so often, doing this and that._

_"I didn't say anything, Mrs Crawley," said Elsie evenly, although she couldn't help herself giggling childishly when Isobel raised her eyebrows._

_"So why don't you tell him?"_

_"He wouldn't be interested. He's been very difficult recently and that's why I was a bit upset earlier. I took myself off for a walk to get away or I'd have gone mad."_

_"Do you know what the problem is?"_

_"I do, but it's not my place to say." Elsie looked down for a brief moment, lost in thought. It was true, Mr Carson had not spoken a civil word to her since they had kissed but she was not about to confess that to Mrs Crawley. She didn't really blame him but that night she had gone to bed blissfully happy and ever since, he broke her heart more and more._

_"Fair enough. But promise me, Mrs Hughes, that you will tell him how you feel?"_

_"I can't, Mrs Crawley. Just believe me when I say I can't."_

* * *

"Mrs Hughes?"

Lady Mary had taken a lot of persuading to come and see the housekeeper, not because she didn't want to, simply because she didn't know what to say. Mary had always been Carson's favourite and was sometimes jealous of Mrs Hughes and how she also favoured in his affections. It was childish really, but she couldn't help it.

"I'm not very good at this stuff. I know you've never really liked me and I suppose I've never earned it. I just wanted you to know something."

Elsie's eyes were closed and Mary was unsure whether she could actually hear her and that made it slightly easier. It was true that they had never really had a strong relationship but she respected the stern housekeeper. In fact, if she was honest, she had always been a little bit intimidated by her.

"He told me he loved you." Mary held her breath, waiting for some kind of response but nothing came. "I should have done something about it. I should have told papa, I should have made him propose. I could have made it all happen but I chose to stay quiet and for that, I'm truly sorry."

She took Elsie's hand in her own, fighting back tears as the reality of what could have been dawned on her. She knew the unresolved feelings between them, the secret love that burned in them both but had chosen to be selfish. She could have changed it all, but when Carson had come to her she had been selfish.

Maybe it was a small blessing that Mrs Hughes hadn't heard, thought Mary, staring down at their hands still entwined on the mattress. No sooner had the thought entered her head than she felt the housekeeper stir slightly, her hand squeezing her own gently, weakly. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment and as Mary looked at her, she gave her a small smile of forgiveness.

As Mary left the room, she vowed to herself that she would never be selfish again. She had truly learned her lesson and felt unworthy of the forgiveness that Mrs Hughes was prepared to give her.

_She had been spending more and more time over at Crawley House. The situation with Mr Carson was getting better, although they were still nowhere near as close as they used to be and Elsie was scared to push it. She couldn't stand the thought of losing him._

_"I've got an idea," said Isobel mischievously, leading Elsie by the hand into her bedroom. She sat her down in front of her mirror and began fishing around in the drawers at the side. "He's going to notice you tonight, my dear."_

_Elsie didn't dare ask what she was talking about, staring at herself wistfully in the mirror. She never thought of herself as pretty or beautiful but it only highlighted her insecurities to see herself beside Isobel. She was always so immaculately groomed, whereas she was a simple housekeeper._

_"What are you doing?" exclaimed Elsie, as Isobel began unpinning her hair. She gently combed it through before she began rubbing a variety of products into Elsie's skin. Too shocked to say a word, Elsie let her do whatever she wanted. Isobel really was a free spirit, she thought admiringly. Who else in the world would put make-up on a housekeeper to help her woo the butler?_

_"There, you're all done." Isobel grinned at her in the mirror. "It's only subtle but my word, you look marvellous."_

_"Is it not improper to go home like this?"_

_"Oh come on, Elsie. It's dark, no one will see."_

_Looking back into the mirror, Elsie did feel kind of beautiful. She only hoped that Mr Carson would think so too._

_He was waiting for her in his pantry for their customary glass of wine, glasses set out and her chair pulled opposite him. She knocked tentatively before entering, realising that she was risking everything. _

_"I thought you weren't …" he stopped mid-sentence when he saw her, his mouth hanging open. She suddenly became incredibly self-conscious, every urge telling her to run back out the door._

_"Are you alright, Charles?"_

_"I didn't realise your hair was so long," he managed to stammer. She burst out laughing, dissolving all the tension in the room in an instant. "I didn't realise you were so beautiful."_

_She stopped laughing, a serious look now on her face. _

_"Do you mean that?"_

_"Of course I do, Elsie. You don't need that make-up and your hair down to impress me, although I do love your hair like that." He ran his fingers through her long, soft hair, eliciting a gentle whimper from her._

_"Are things ok between us, Charles? I couldn't stand for us not to be friends." He didn't respond, just carried on stroking her hair, mesmerised by its softness. She closed her eyes and suddenly she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. He was too close, his lips were too near and oh, far too irresistible._

_They kissed deeply and passionately, hands in hair, exploring bare skin, tongues dancing, teeth biting. He pressed her roughly against the wall, his fingers starting to work on the buttons of her dress. She pushed him away suddenly._

_"What's wrong?" he asked, looking hurt as he studied her face for any sign of emotion._

_"I don't know, Charles. I'm scared."_

_"We don't have to…"_

_"That's not what I mean," she said, waving her hand dismissively. He took her face gently in his hands, imploring her to share her worries. "I don't want to lose you again, like last time we… you know. I shouldn't have let Mrs Crawley talk me into wearing all this make-up to impress you, I should just be happy with how things are."_

_"You're right about one thing. You don't need the make-up to impress me, Elsie but as for the rest of it? Do you really believe we can live like that?"_

_"If it means you will stay in my life, then I believe I can."_

_"Don't worry about losing me. I was stupid and I hope you can forgive me. I was worried about how much Anna had witnessed and so I behaved selfishly."_

_She didn't need to hear any more. She took him by the hand, kissing him softly on the lips, a small smile creeping across her face._

_She lead Charles up to her bedroom where he undressed her slowly, admiring every inch of her body along the way. They made love for the first and last time, finally falling asleep in an exhausted tangle of limbs on a bed that was not made for two. _

* * *

"Elsie, my darling. Please wake up."

He was the last person to visit her every evening and the first person there every morning. Most of the time he just held her hand, although sometimes he read to her or told her of the chaos downstairs in her absence.

She didn't open her eyes, her breathing was extremely laboured by now and Dr Clarkson had said she didn't have very long left at all. He knew this was going to be goodbye.

"I want you to know something. I have always loved you, Elsie Hughes. You are the most perfect woman to me and I'm sorry I've not always been deserving of your love in return. I wanted to marry you."

Tears started to silently roll down his face as he confessed what he'd always wanted her to know but had never dared to say. He'd told Lady Mary, who had barely responded to the idea, leaving him unsure of where he would stand if he did choose to marry the housekeeper. Selfishly, he supposed, he'd chosen not to take the risk.

"It's the biggest regret of my life, Elsie. I chose not to ask to keep us safe, but I'm afraid I hurt you in the process. That one night we had – it was the best night of my life."

It was true; he had seen the hurt in her eyes as the days and weeks passed and nothing more was said between them. That night had been perfect, she had been perfect and he chose to push her away yet again. They remained friends and the unspoken feelings remained just under the surface but he could see that she waiting for something more. They would occasionally share a kiss if the wine flowed too easily and they would hold each other when times were tough, but other than that, they remained butler and housekeeper.

_ She looked stunning as she stood by the water, watching the sunset with amazement._

_ "Isn't it beautiful?" she exclaimed, taking in the pink, orange and purple hues._

_ "Come on now, Elsie. We need to go back in," he suggested, his hand pressing gently in the small of her back._

_ "Just a moment longer," she sighed, turning to face him. "I'll be ok you know? One way or the other."_

_ "I don't want to think about it, Elsie. I can't stand the thought of losing you."_

_ She hadn't wanted to tell him that she might be dying, but she knew he would find out somehow. He took her in his arms, both of them looking out across the water, his face buried in her hair. He vowed never to forget this moment as long as he lived. The scent of her, the feel of her warm body full of life and her promise that she would be ok, however it ended._

He watched as the rise and fall of her chest gradually slowed, a pained expression on her face. He held her hand tightly, occasionally telling her how much she was loved and how empty his life would be without her. For the most part though, he stayed quiet, holding all his emotions in and simply being there for her.

That was how they had always been together; a perfect balance. When one was weak, the other stayed strong and carried on with a firm resolve, never once complaining. He would carry her now to the end until all his strength was gone and he was left alone, an empty shell; quite literally half of what he used to be.

He supposed he would never be truly parted from her. Whether he liked it or not, she would haunt him daily. He would catch a brief sniff of lavender in the hallway and turn, expecting her to be there. He would hear footsteps coming purposefully down the stairs and wait for her to catch up. But she never would.

As she drew her last breath, he kissed her gently on the lips the way he should have done every single night. He watched her slip away, felt her leave him for the last time.

"Goodnight sweet Elsie. Wait for me up there, I won't be long."


End file.
